GW Flash Fic
by Merith
Summary: Itunes/playlist flashfic meme: stories written to songs by choice or random. Typical Flashfic pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre, Wufei/Relena – ratings from PG to NC-17. Warnings on each story.
1. Flash Fic Meme 1

Itunes/playlist flashfic meme: set your playlists to random and then write "flashfic" for the first 10 songs that come up.

Flashfic pairings: Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre, Wufei/Relena – nothing over PG rating. No warnings to speak of. Each fic-bit was written in the time as its song played, hence short pieces and possible bad grammar or idea formation.

* * *

**Brown eyed Girl – Jimmy Buffet**

AU, Heero/Duo

How many years had passed since I'd last seen him? Ten? Fifteen? Far too many. He's grown up, that's for sure.

It is summertime, and my mom convinces me to attend one of those dreaded family reunions. The first hour isn't so bad, reacquainting myself with aunts and uncles, cousins and their broods. The second divides members into little groups, and the third, he appears.

I confess, I haven't thought of him in so long. A cousin by marriage, my first partner in sex. My first love. Heero stands in the doorway, his eyes find mine, and I see we still have it – that connection. And he heads towards me, as I do him.

* * *

**Looking out my Backdoor – CCR**

Duo self introspection

The steps are cool on his ass as he lowers himself down. Steam rises from his cup of coffee in faint wisps, and he looks over the field behind the house. Thoughts of youth and plans of the future tug at his mind. But, as the sun steadily rises, he sips at his coffee, and lets what will be be, for the moment.

Peace is there for him at last.

* * *

**Tim, I wish you were born a girl – Of Montreal**

AU, Heero/Duo

Duo flopped back on the bed, his head landing in Heero's lap. The teen glared downward, but turned back to his book. Duo stroked fingers up the exposed skin Heero's shirt left open. It was so damned confusing. Heero was a boy, and so was he.

His feelings had changed, seemingly overnight, but… how could they ever be?

* * *

**Time in a bottle – Jim Croce**

Trowa/Quatre

The notes died away, and Quatre lowered his violin. His eyes were simmering bright, his voice catching as he told Trowa what had been on his mind lately.

Trowa smiled, lowered his head for a kiss, and accepted the proposal in that quiet passion of his.

There would be time for this. Time for them.

* * *

**Jump in the line – Harry Belafonte**

Implied Heero/Duo, Trowa/Quatre

Calypso music blared from the band, and Duo was shirtless, body gyrating in a bastard mix of salsa and hip-hop. Quatre downed another shot, and with a laugh, jumped to his feet. His hand shot out and grabbed Trowa by his shirtfront, dragging him behind.

Heero glanced at Wufei who was pretending to be elsewhere. With a shrug and a smile, Heero rose and found his boyfriend, finding the rhythm set, and joining the line.

Not a minute passed by before Wufei too, was out on the dance floor. A brown-haired woman in a dress cut low and flowing skirts slid arms about his waist, and guided him in the dance.

* * *

**Mamma Mia – (Mamma Mia OST) ABBA**

Implied Heero/Duo, Wufei/Relena

Relena watched the couple from across the pool through sunglass covered eyes. A phantom pain stabbed; the thought that it could have been _her_ splashing through the water with him; could have been _her_ to share that kiss, feel that grope she knew was made below the surface just by seeing his partner's eyes widen, and the wild grin that blossomed.

But, it wasn't her, and she had gotten over it years ago. She smiled softly, and shifted her gaze to the man walking over heated concrete in unselfconscious fashion. He carried the ice tea she'd asked for, ignoring the antics playing out in the water beside him.

She sighed slightly. There she goes again.

* * *

**Peace of Mind – Boston**

AU, Trowa/Quatre

Trowa picked up the guitar and began to play quietly. It'd been a long week, more so for his partner than himself. His job was rather like he was – low maintenance, low stress, rather laid back. As he played, he thought of when he and Quatre had first met, thought of how the young earnest college student had so many ideals, so much ambition. He smiled remembering _their_ times together, and how it had been in such a different pace than what Quatre ran now.

Take the day, as an example. It was past nine, and Quatre had just walked through the door, shoulders drooping in weariness, barely a smile to share, before he turned and staggered back to the bedroom for a shower. Trowa played on.

It hadn't always been that way. Quatre's smiles used to be frequent and warm – so inviting Trowa would get lost in them. Fingers stumbling over the chords, Trowa closed his eyes, wondering if it would ever be that way again.

"Don't stop," Quatre told him softly from the door.

Trowa jerked his head around, and blinked. Quatre was standing there in a towel and a smile, a light shining in his eyes, and water dripping from his hair. Trowa's fingers found the music again, and he thought he remembered to breathe. Quatre started to cross the room, and his voice was just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"I quit my job today."

* * *

**Hold my Hand – Hootie and the Blowfish**

Heero/Duo

Heero smiled softly, his hand stroked hair falling over Duo's brow. "It is true. Every word."

His head shook slowly in disbelief. His cheeks were pink, and he couldn't meet Heero's gaze. Heero took his hand, and it trembled in his grasp. Together, they walked the path, and let the peace of the day seep through them both.

"Okay, I believe you," Duo said quietly. "And… I guess I feel the same way." He turned to face Heero, then. Leaning forward slowly, his lips pressed to Heero's, and they shared their first kiss – the first of many more to come.

* * *

**The Boy from NYC – The Adlibs**

Heero/Duo

The boardwalk seemed to run on for miles, though he knew it wasn't even a complete one from end to end. Below, the beach stretched out for yards, the surf lapped at its surface. His name was called, and Heero turned from the rail to watch Duo navigate through the Saturday crowd, pink clouds of fluff held overhead, and out of reach of others.

It had been a lark to drive to the coast; laundry, yard work, and things neglected during the week waited at home. But here and now, there was Duo, the sun, and shared cotton candy kisses.

* * *


	2. Flash Fic Meme 2

Itunes/playlist flashfic meme: set your playlists to random and then write "flashfic" for the first 10 songs that come up.

Flashfic pairings: Heero/Duo, Wufei/Relena, Zechs/Noin – nothing over PG-13 rating. There is some angst in some of them, some language in others. Each fic-bit was written in the time as its song played, hence short pieces and possible bad grammar or idea formation.

* * *

**Crash into Me – Dave Matthews Band**

Your call came late at night, but I didn't mind; I wasn't sleeping anyway. 'Pick me up?' You asked, and I agreed immediately, glad to hear the relief in your voice.

You looked so weary, but good. So very good. Standing outside the customs gate, with your beat-up old duffle in hand, in a wrinkled tee shirt, and hair sticking out everywhere in your braid. But you smiled for me. Gave me a hug and a hard time for driving three hours to the spaceport, only to turn around and drive another three back.

I didn't ask you think why you had come, why you'd left her in the middle of the night, and come to me. You didn't offer, but I knew there was a story. I knew you'd tell me, later. There would be a later, of that I was sure.

You slept on the drive up, and I didn't mind. It gave me the chance to look at you, to see how the past year had treated you. Good was the consensus, though there were new lines on your face, and hallows under your eyes. But, you were still you – strong, beautiful, sexy, and independent to a fault.

One day, one day I'll be more than a friend there to pick you up, a place to crash while you sort out where you belong. One day, I will be where you want to be.

* * *

**All Star – Smash Mouth**

It was the derisive call from a female voice in the crowd that set him off laughing. His companion scowled in irritation, but Duo waved him off. Turning to the unknown heckler, he blew a kiss, and grinned. A yell of 'I love you!' and another suggestive proposition met him in return.

He waved again, turned, and jogged to catch up with the other four heading for the raised dais. It was a joke. A ceremony to put faces up on the political scene. Five good-looking _young_ men, the saviors of earth and space, of life as the masses knew it were good for more than a photo-op.

They stood in line behind several long-winded dignitaries, and his barely contained laughter was getting louder. His companion gripped his wrist. The look given surreptitiously asked for his compliance, gave him assurance that allowing this _experience_ would be rewarded.

Game face on, he settled in for his role of the moment. Freedom was only hours away. He'd waited years for that day. And given the way his hand was being stroked, it would be more than what he ever had expected.

* * *

**Dancing in the Dark – Bruce Springsteen**

Her hair is perfectly in place, her smile a practiced graciousness. Another session, another meeting, another political rally. She wondered as she was introduced to yet another 'up-and-coming' what the refined assemblage would think if she were to run screaming from the room, ripping the confining dress from her body and throwing the torturous shoes as far as she could throw them.

This was her life, the one she'd been leading since she could walk. Though, these days it involved more than looking pretty standing by her father's side.

A quick glance behind her confirmed he was still there. Good. Her quip about meeting in a dark room hadn't scared him off. A few minutes respite from _her_ world was all she needed, and he – upright and proper as those whirling around them – was perfect.

An hour later, she wandered from the reception, knowing he followed. She pulled the pins binding her hair, and shook it loose. She kicked her shoes off in some empty corridor, and left them under a bench. Her dress came off next, and she wondered for an instant if there were security cameras in this wing. But it didn't matter any more.

With a flashing smile over her shoulder, she disappeared into a darkened room, one she knew would be waiting for her… and him.

* * *

**Frankie in the Rain – Jann Arden**

She watches from the window, sees his frame outside within the circle of lamp light bathing the street. It is raining, softly but steadily. She sighs though there is no one to hear, and knows she'll let him inside – again.

He is wet, but not soakingly so. Enough that she hands him a towel, and finds a set of dry clothes he'd left behind. Clothes he used to keep in her dresser once upon a time. He returns to the kitchen where she sits and waits with a cup of coffee and her heart on her sleeve.

Neither speaks, and she doesn't expect him to; he never has before. But, this time there's a difference. Instead of the act of an instant claiming, a token resistance, and a handful of hours of bliss, he pours himself a cup, adding the spoonful of sugar. He takes a seat by her side, and leans close to give her cheek a kiss.

She watches him in silence, and he gives her a smile. Tender, soft, and he tells her the words she's longed to hear for all the years of their lives together. Finally.

* * *

**Amen – Jewel**

I lay in the dark cradled in Deathscythe's palm, staring at the moon. He was here just hours ago; here in the flesh, and wasn't someone I'd dreamed. Not this time.

He left, taking not only his Gundam, parts of my buddy, but… something from me.

It itches just under the skin; it burns along my veins.

I had thought, these feelings, such strong emotions only came from what I needed to do. The reason I was here dirtside in the first place. But now there is him.

Fuck, God. You don't make my life easy, do you.

* * *

**3 A.M. – Matchbox 20**

It's the short hours of the morning and raining, and he's gone to her again.

We were asleep when the call came, and from my position at his back, I could hear her crying through the receiver. His voice was calm, soothing, and what I'd come to expect from him – the tone he reserves just for her. He gave his word, hung up the phone, and turned to me with an apologetic look. I don't like it, but I smile and nod my acquiescence anyway. It's the least I could do, for her.

See, before there was a he and I, there had been a she and he. It was long over before it was over, he assures me, but the guilt is still there. So when she calls, he is compelled to answer. I know it is only comforting words, a hug, and a hand to tuck her back into bed that he gives.

But, it's three AM, and it gets lonely.

* * *

**The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel**

In a city far away, the boy finds shelter in a room full of others seeking a place for the night, a refuge from the cold and snow. His coat is ragged and has seen better days, finer times. His clothing is ragged, dirty from being worn too long without reprieve.

He watches the night, hears the quiet shuffles and shifting of the twenty or so others sharing the room with him. There is a cough in the dark, and he closes his eyes. In the morning, he thinks, he will find a job. Something to feed him for another day. Scut wages for a scut job.

It is what he is used to. He had grown up on the streets, after all.

In another city far from the first, a boy stands tall, gauging his opponent. This one is the latest of many – all who've come to try their hand against the soldier, the strongest of them all. His body bears the scars from battles past, and he knows there will be more to add as time goes on.

This is his job, his place. His knuckles are wrapped in tape, his brow and neck are wiped free of sweat, and a water bottle is squirting liquid in his mouth. Another fight, another victory. How many more he'd have to win, he didn't know. One day, he wouldn't win.

One day, he would lay his gloves down for good.

* * *

**River Deep, Mountain High – Celine Dion**

Relena sat at her desk, the end of her pen between her lips. Work momentarily forgotten, appointments scheduled not even a blip on her radar. Relena was nineteen, soon to be twenty, and for the first time in her young life, she was in love. Truly in love.

When she was a child, there had been an assortment of toys, her favorite the little white stuffed terrier with the black button eyes. She remembered losing him, and crying inconsolably for days. Nothing could take its place. No other toy brought her such joy.

A few years before, there had been… The Crush. Her cheeks heated just recalling her behavior of that time. Luckily, it had only lasted a few months, and though _he_ held a special place in her heart, he was not the one she loved. Was not the one she pictured having a family with, growing old with.

It was a growing thing, this emotion that so overwhelmed her at the moment. A small glimmer of _something_ more, it surged to a flame, and when he showed signs that maybe he might hold the same feelings, it raged to an inferno. Their first kiss was enough to burn the building down.

Her eyes closed, and her sigh was full of longing, a desire she knew would cause the heavens to combust when it was fulfilled. And she only waited for the match to ignite.

* * *

**Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) – Journey**

We sleep in the same bed, but he might as well be a thousand miles away. The argument still rings in my ears, and my fist clench in frustration. Never had he been so _unwilling_ to see it from my side; fuck if I am I going to see it from his.

It's not the first time we've spent days angry and short with each other. Though, these days are becoming more frequent, and the silence between is lengthening.

What happened to us? What happened to the promises whispered in the dark, curled into one another? What happened to our tomorrow?

Is there another? Is there someone else who's caught your eye? Will _he_ make you happy? Touch you like I thought I had? Break those locks guarding your heart? I… I love you. And if there is someone, I wish you the best. Though what I want more is to beat his face in, wipe the floor with his ass. And I will, if I hear he's hurt you.

I can't help but look his way and am surprised to see he's watching me. His hand slides forward, and he touches my face, wipes the tear that managed to escape, and he shudders.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and I draw him in my arms. I don't want to let him go. Ever.

* * *

**The One – Elton John**

Watching you cross the sand, I lie to myself again and believe I don't understand what happened. Maybe I do, maybe I don't want to remember. But the years have passed now, and I see you have changed – see you haven't changed.

You're still all I ever needed.

We were so young then. Believing we were nigh on invincible, feeling the rush of battle and the fight, carrying it to the nearest dark semi-private corner to take it out on each other. I can still hear your bit back cries and muffled grunts; still smell your skin and sweat and come on me. You loved me then, as I did you.

And when the fighting was over, we couldn't hold it together any more. The meeting of bodies became just sex, and neither of us could live with that.

But today, today is my chance – our chance. Nothing will block our way again. Because, you're all I ever needed.

* * *


	3. 121 All the Way

Title: All the Way

Pairing: Heero/Duo

Warnings: Language, implied sex, sexual situation, **dialog fic**

Notes: Written for Sharon for her request for song #121 on my playlist, which happened to be Lonestar's _All the Way_. Please be aware that this is a dialog fic.

Author note: This is the first of sixteen such fics.

* * *

**All the Way**

"Hey, nearly done there?"

"Just a moment. The tender's being a bitch and won't lite."

"Heh, and this from the pyrotech king who could blow up anything with common household products."

"Yeah, I managed to create a few fireworks through the years, haven't I?"

"Mmmm, no complaints from me on that."

"Good, cause we have plans and I'd hate to usurp them just to prove you wrong."

"I wouldn't mind…"

"Of course not. Fire's going, did you bring the champagne…"

"Here take this, hook your arm – like that."

"Oooh, fancy are we?"

"What else are you supposed to do on a romantic anniversary weekend?"

"Ah, the good stuff."

"I don't think you're supposed to down the glass in one swallow… or smack your lips like that."

"I don't think I was meant for 'the finer sensibilities'."

"You don't have to smirk about it."

"What's on the music disk? Want more of this 'hooch'?"

"Hooch, Duo? …just half a glass for me. I want to keep my faculties clear for later."

"Oh? Have something in mind?"

"Always where you're concerned."

"Good. Hate to think you were hanging around for someone else after all this time."

"As if anyone else would still be breathing…"

"Damn straight! What _is_ this music you're playing?"

"Uh… A compilation of the 'Best One-Thousand Love Songs of the Past Six Hundred Years'."

"Huh… by whose standards I'd like to know. Sorry, Heero, but that shit has got to go."

"Shit? Should have known you and romance cannot share air space."

"You want romance? I'll show you romance. Just let me switch disks…"

"Oh, this is…mmmm… much better."

"Like dancing do you?"

"With you? Since day one."

"How many dances has there been?"

"Not enough…"

"Let's see… sixteen years together and at least a dance a month…"

"You're tickling my ear."

"Heh… how's that?"

"Wet."

"Never satisfied, are you?"

"Never…"

"Less than two hundred? That doesn't sound right…"

"Numbers don't count. This does."

"Wanna sit this one out?"

"Tired alread— Hey! Bruising isn't encouraged on anniversary get-aways."

"By whose rules?"

"You want bruises? I'll give you bruises!"

"Heero! No fair, man! Ummph… you gaining weight?"

"Tell me how much you like to bottom and I'll let you up."

"I love it when you bottom…"

"No! You bottom."

"Like I said, I like it when you… Ah! Heero! That's definitely no fair! And definitely not romantic grabbing me _there_ while pinned."

"Just proving a point… ummm, weren't we supposed to be snuggling in front of the fire?"

"This _could_ count as snuggling. Though you might wanna let up on my wrist there…"

"How's this?"

"This is nice."

"Are you wearing my cologne?"

"Mmmm, I like the way it smells on you."

"I rather like how it smells on you too."

"More cham-pang-na?"

"Pfft, how 'bout I just sip from yours?"

"And share germs? I'm not so sure…hmmmprf!"

"Don't seem to mind so much now."

"Nope. Share a little more?"

"Hmmm, getting warm in here to you?"

"Let me take off your sweater. Better?"

"Much."

"I agree… your skin looks great in the firelight."

"…is that a compliment?"

"Shut up. You know what I meant."

"Such a romantic."

"Didn't we already discuss that?"

"Kiss me again to show me."

"Always…"

"There?"

"Good… and there…"

"Think maybe these pants might be getting a little warm, too."

"Yes, take them off for me… what's wrong?"

"You're wearing my underwear."

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"They're my Jimmy Unitus specials."

"Trust me, Duo, they _do not_ enhance the package."

"They're shaping yours just fine… and looks like someone's Iarroused/I."

"And you're not?"

"Mmmm, never said I wasn't. But—"

"AH! Duo!"

"Like that? How 'bout when I do…"

"Oh God, yes… more…"

"You bring the… good."

"Hurry!"

"Nuh huh…that's not the romantic way."

"Fuck the romance!"

"I'd rather fuck you."

"Then get on with it."

"Hit the spot there?"

"Again!"

"Demanding are we? I can do that… see? Damn you look so fucking sexy like that."

"Duo…"

"Don't move… not yet…"

"Duo… now! God, now!"

"Impatient demanding bastard."

"Arrogant prick."

"You love this prick."

"Mmmm, just like that… again…"

"Who likes to bottom?"

"Prick!"

"Oh. OH! God-fucking-damn! Heero!"

"Duo!"

"Yeah, hmmm, snuggling in front of the fireplace."

"Don't move yet."

"Okay, just hooking my shirt for…"

"'k, thanks."

"Hmmm, you taste good."

"Heh… you're tickling again. Shift over."

"How's this?"

"Perfect."

"Hey, don't be falling asleep."

"Not sleepin'…"

"No? Then why are your eyes closed? …huh? What was that? Not sure I understand slumber-mumble."

"Prick."

"Heh, but you love this prick."

"And that one."

"More champagne? I think there's a little left."

"Don't want to move."

"You're so pliant after sex. Bet I could get you to agree to a new car…"

"What's wrong with the one you're driving now?"

"I guess not."

"Duo, what's wrong with your car?"

"Nothing, just wondering how far I could…"

"Nothing? Is that why we drove mine up here?"

"No, we drove yours because _you_ wanted to drive. Controlling bastard."

"Damn straight. Now give me another kiss."

"Roger that. …meet specifications?"

"Affirmative."

"We done with this romantic in front of the fire shit now?"

"Hell, Duo. I'll make a note that there's to be no more romantic…"

"This is good!"

"…get-aways in the future."

"I just want to check out the game console… they have Chronis Fighter IV, and…"

"I'm Jax'Pal."

"HA! Shar'cotan will kick his ass! 'specially with me on the controls."

* * *

All the Way lyrics

Hey, we're walkin' through this together  
And I'm holdin' onto you  
Nothin' can separate  
This little twist of fate  
You're the one my heart belongs to  
Nothin's quite as sweet as the journey  
So let's go around the world  
Takin' in everything no matter what life brings  
We're gonna be chasin' forever

All the way  
To the end  
All my life  
And back again  
Every day  
I'll be here  
Loving you  
All through the years  
And it's true  
There's so much freedom in knowin'  
How sure we are that we're goin'  
All the way

People ask me think y'all can make it  
And I tell them honestly  
This ain't no fleeting thing  
We're not imagining  
This is it, we know it's meant to be  
'Cause I love you, love you completely  
I've never felt like this  
I don't want nothin' but  
Something that's passionate 'Cause the only way I know how to love is

All the way  
To the end  
All my life  
And back again  
Every day  
I'll be here  
Loving you  
All through the years  
And it's true  
There's so much freedom in knowin'  
How sure we are that we're goin'  
All the way

All the way  
There's so much freedom in knowin'  
How sure we are that we're goin'  
All the way


	4. 43 Mercy

Title: Mercy

Pairings: Trowa/Quatre

Warnings: Bondage, BL, sexual situation/theme

Notes: Written for Raz for her request for song #43 on my playlist, which happened to be Duffy's _Mercy_.

* * *

**Mercy**

Silk ropes tied in practiced, expert fashion and looped through the headboard slats bind his wrists and ankles in a kneeling position. He tests them with a gentle tug of his arm, even knowing he is well and truly caught. Another swatch of silk is wrapped about his head, blinding his sight. His lips part. He is panting in sudden, vicious need, and his ears strain for any sounds of _him_.

"Quatre," he breathes, knowing a response will not come. But, the act of saying his lover's name excites him even more, and the cheeks of his buttocks tighten, pushing his hips out, making his stiffened cock jut that much more.

A touch. A touch is all he needs. At least for the moment.

Fingertips ghost over his cheek, and his head tilts toward it, seeking further contact, and earning a sharp tap on his nose.

"My pleasure, not yours," the voice he longs to hear says.

So close, and Trowa lowers his head in instant submission. The mattress dips and there is a touch, a hand running up the inside of his thigh. His breath stutters in a gasp and he trembles, holding back the urge to speak, to ask for more. The hand is gone before it reaches where he most desires touch.

"Beautiful," his lover says, and it is all he can do to remain still, to keep from uttering pleas.

A mouth closes over his nipple and he tenses, his arms jerk in slight appreciation. The mouth is warm; its tongue works his erect nub. He is vibrating, feeling the hint of suction from chest to groin, and his erection jumps in its confine. A brush of a thumb over his other nipple and he arches his head back, gasping.

"Easy," is the breath of a word on his skin.

"Master," he pleas.

The vibration of the laugh is felt through their connection of mouth to nipple, and Trowa moans. He pulls on his wrist restraints, wanting to touch, and stills only when the soothing hand runs down his flank, caresses the cheek of his ass. With a sigh, he gives in to that hand, to the mouth sucking and biting, and to the pinching and twisting of his flesh between the fingers.

It is the anticipation of knowing what is to come that has him tense. The blindfold keeps him from knowing just where _he_ will be, what _he_ will do.

The hand slides palm flat on his skin from his chest down to his abdomen. Fingers curl and stroke in caressing touches; his hips jerk in short, quick motion, seeking the hand, seeking more. And the hand is bridging the frame of his pubic curl. His lower lip quivers, and he bites at it, keeping the utterance from being released.

"Do you want me to touch you? Or," fingers brush in the lightest of touches over his cock; the voice tickles his ear, its tone teases along nerve-lines, twitching at his cock, "…do you want to _suck_ me?"

Trowa gasps, his mouth is open, and he is straining in the war of his decision. To give or receive; the desire is both his, and the choice is made. A finger glides over the rigidness of him, swipes through the moisture gathering at the head, and is gone. A wet, pleased sound is made, and the finger is back, another swipe, another sound.

"Lovely." And Trowa smiles, knowing he has given already, knowing there is more to give. A zipper sounds, and there is the rustle of clothing. His skin pimples and immediately flushes; he shivers as he waits.

Arms circle around his confined ones, and the play is loosened in pinning his upper body to the bed. His lover is so close; the smell of him overwhelms his nostrils. Trowa turns his head just enough, and his face is tucked against a shoulder. He cannot resist nuzzling, though he knows he will be punished for the liberty.

"Che, none of that." The tone is light, though, amused, and Trowa dares more. His tongue streaks out for a taste. He is rewarded with a laugh, but his lover's body draws away, and he regrets the distance.

"You should have enough room, now."

A hand is placed on his head, pushing it down, and he bends at the waist, his mouth open and seeking. Slick wetness slides on his cheek, and he homes in on his target. Mouth wide, the thick, stiff flesh glides over lips and tongue, and Trowa begins to work throat muscles, clamping, and drawing, swallowing at nothing.

The hand on his head begins to stroke through his hair; his lover moans, hips thrust to his face. His throat relaxes, letting his lover fuck his mouth. His lover's other hand joins the first and his hair is gripped in twin fists, guiding and holding his head in place.

Trowa smells the leather, and can feel the metal of the zipper with each down-stroke. He images what his lover is wearing, wishes he could see to confirm. The red leather, he decides knowing they are Quatre's favorites. His feet will be bare, and Trowa's cock jumps at the thought. He cannot tell if a shirt is being worn, but determines there hadn't been one – no fabric came between him and his lover when he pressed his face to his lover's chest. Trowa moans around his lover at the mental picture he's created.

The need to come is strong and gaining.

"So good," his lover groans.

He works his tongue, adding some small measure of friction and texture to the experience. He knows it will last moments only, and if _he_ is pleased, it will be his turn. His buttocks clench in excitement, and he feels his cock jiggle against his thighs. A touch will be all it takes.

And his master is coming; he swallows. He feels a spill and whimpers at the loss. His lover is finished, but still the leather is pressed tightly to his face, his nose is squashed into the fly's crease, his forehead against the waistband. Trowa's breathing steadies as he waits his lover's pleasure. A hand releases its hold and he feels it slide over his shoulder, stroke his back in a soothing caress.

"You are so beautiful like this. So very beautiful." There is unconcealed desire and adoration in the voice, and Trowa shivers at its rawness. "You please me very much," his lover says, and Trowa moans.

His mouth is emptied, and Trowa's tongue is licking at the edges of his lips, recovering the last of his lover. A laugh, and his lover is kissing him, tongue plundering, tasting him and _himself_. The hand still wrapped in his hair pulls, drawing him upward, and he is flush with his lover, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Trowa tests his bonds again, sounds his displeasure at being unable to touch, to hold.

"Would you like release?" his lover laughs softly against his mouth. The hand on his back is gone, only to appear at his hip, trailing fingers tease at the tuffs of hair cover his groin.

"Please," he murmurs, seeking the mouth so close to his. "Please."

Fingers unclip his ring. "Come for me," he is commanded, and his mouth is covered again with his lover's.

His cry is swallowed as he comes, his body arches, straining against the silk ropes, and his eyelids flutter behind the blind. Quivering, weak and panting, he slumps into the arms that hold him.

"Beautiful," he hears even as he begins to fade. "So beautiful."

* * *

Mercy lyrics:

Yeah Yeah Yeah x4

I love you  
but i gotta stay true  
my morals got me on my knees  
I'm begging please stop playing games

i don't know what this is  
but you got me good  
just like you knew you would

i don't know what you do  
but you do it well  
I'm under your spell

Chorus  
You got me begging you for mercy  
why wont you release me  
you got me begging you for mercy  
why wont you release me  
I said release me

Now you think that i  
will be something on the side  
but you got to understand  
that i need a man  
who can take my hand yes i do

i don't know what this is  
but you got me good  
just like you knew you would

i don't know what you do  
but you do it well  
I'm under your spell

You got me begging you for mercy  
why wont you release me  
you got me begging you for mercy  
why wont you release me  
I said you'd better release yeah yeah yeah  
I'm begging you for mercy

you got me begging  
you got me begging  
you got me begging

Mercy, why wont you release me  
I'm begging you for mercy  
why wont you release me

you got me begging you for mercy  
I'm begging you for mercy  
I'm begging you for mercy  
I'm begging you for mercy  
I'm begging you for mercy

Why wont you release me yeah yeah


	5. 12 Changes in Latitude

Title: Changes in Latitude

Pairings: Heero/Duo

Warnings: BL, language, some angst, some sap, sexual situation,

Note: Written for Corazn del Fuego for his request for song #12 on my playlist, which happened to be Jimmy Buffett's _Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes._ While this fic was written for Cor and his #12 song choice, this has been an unfinished work on my hard drive for quite some time. Before this morning, I had maybe 300 words written of it. (There's just over 5,000 now). The story began from a picture drawn by natea21 back in August 2006 – (img./albums/v200/merith/heero and duo/duodeckchair3.jpg) Duo at the beach. enjoy!

* * *

**Changes in Latitude**

I found him on the edge of the surf, the waves barely touching his feet. He was lying back in a low beach chair, and that damn braid of his draped over the chair's back, trailing in the sand behind him. A brown bottle of some sort of liquid encased in a foam coozi sat within reach of his hand.

Instead of launching immediately into what I came to say, I looked out over the ocean – or his little cove of it. On the horizon, a yacht lay in anchor, or sat adrift. Gulls flew low over the boat, crying their distant cry and circling away. It was a peaceful beach, a small pocket of paradise, if a person believed in it.

"Why are you here?" he asked suddenly.

It took me a moment to focus on him, to take in his tone. No malice implied, his voice sounded more bored, incurious. "You don't answer your emails, or return phone calls. And I've only received a post card in response to the letters I've sent."

"You," he drew out the word, "only want to talk of 'the good for all' and 'keeping the peace'." His hand found his bottle, and he lifted it to his mouth.

"We need you," I said, feeling the frustration growing.

"I fought my fight, already. It's somebody else's turn."

"The war isn't over, Duo."

"It is for me."

And he drank from his bottle once more. I turned away, looking out over his cove to the ocean again, clamping teeth together. He wasn't looking past the end of the day, much less the end of the year. For several minutes, he didn't say anything, and I wasn't about to. But I turned from the water to look him over; tried to find the boy I once knew.

He looked good; in long, knee-length shorts over legs tanned to a chestnut brown and bare feet half buried in sand. His hair was sun bleached in streaks; unbuttoned and opened, his shirt would have rivaled one of Howard's own. But, it was his hand that drew my attention. It was the same – large, long-fingered, with signs of busted knuckles, calluses in just the right spots to show what he'd been, and I knew if I looked closer, there would be a scar. The one he would've gotten saving me.

"I'm not leaving without you," I felt compelled to say.

His head turned in my direction, but his expression remained impossible to see. His mouth twisted into a parody of a grin, and his eyes hid behind a pair of sunglasses.

"Well, that would be a first." And he laughed a short and dark sound.

"Damn it, Duo!" I raked fingers through my hair. "You know why I had to—you would have done the same!" I expected an argument, a flying fist, something. But Duo only stared at me for a moment and turned away. "You would have," I insisted.

He raised his bottle to his mouth again, held it at his lips for a moment, and said finally, "I would have, maybe, at one time," and took his drink.

"Why won't you consider returning?" I got the idea he was ignoring me, now. "You threw everything away, for what? A shack on some God-forsaken island and nothing to do all day but get drunk?"

"Yeah, go figure." He was laughing softly.

"What happened to you?" I asked softly, crouching down by his chair. "You used to believe in what we did – had ambitions…"

"Yeah, I used to have it all," he spat out at me. "Or nearly all I wanted. But it wasn't me who threw it away, Heero. It fucking wasn't me."

"It was you who quit and walked away." Mouth dry, I could barely force words out of it.

"And what did I have back there? You tell me," he demanded softly. "I had a career, a job I thought I loved. I had a place I called my own. I had friends – or at least I thought they were."

"You had—have friends still," I insisted. "Not a day passes that someone doesn't ask after you."

"But not when it counted."

"What?"

"Where were those _friends_ when I was left lying in my own blood and vomit back in that lab?" I jerked back, but his hand flashed out and grabbed my wrist, holding me in place. "You _might_ have had to leave me there – at least for a few hours, but where were you when I needed you, huh? Where were you when night came? When the power shut down and the air was slowly dying on me?"

"The extraction team—"

"Oh yes, let's not forget them," Duo interrupted. "They very nearly killed me because _someone_ didn't warn them of what had happened."

I knew he meant me, and he knew I knew. It had been an oversight, but at the time, I was a little busy myself. "You lived," I pointed out.

His grip tightened on my wrist and he stared at me from behind his glasses. His lips flattened. "Yeah, I lived," he said in just as flat a voice. He released me suddenly, standing abruptly, and nearly knocking me over.

"I had a lot of time to think about it, too," he continued, hoisting his beach chair over his shoulder and starting across the sand. "Two weeks in a hospital bed, with nothing to do but think." He looked over his shoulder at me. "And no one visiting."

"You know I couldn't," I protested. "I was still undercover, and half the world away—"

Duo's laugh surprised me, but he began walking again. "It was always about the mission, always the job with you. Never about _you_ or what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, following him.

He didn't answer me until we reached the edge of his 'yard', the wooden steps of his sagging porch a mere dozen feet away. "I believe you know the answer to that already," he said, turning to face me. "Tell you what," he glanced between me, the rental sitting out under dubious shade, and the door to his shack, "you answer that question on your own, and I'll give serious consideration to going back with you."

But he grinned, and slipped those damned sunglasses from his face. I nearly gasped aloud, seeing the other set of scars he'd received that day. "But somehow, I think if you can answer that question, it won't be me who'll be moving."

I didn't respond, but watched as he hung his chair up on a peg nailed to the side of the house, watched as he opened a screen door that needed oiling, and watched as it smacked shut behind him. _Answer that question_, he'd said. It seemed simple enough. But, I had the idea it would be the hardest question I ever had to answer.

When he didn't return after a few minutes, I stopped staring at the door and walked to the rental. Its newness, the gloss paint, and gleaming metal was in complete contrast with its surroundings. Instead of getting in and driving back to the so-called resort hotel where I held reservations, I opened the door, shrugged off the jacket I wore, and tossed it into the back seat. Rolling up shirtsleeves and removing shoes eased some of the heat, and the still chilled bottle of water helped even more.

Thinking I could out wait Duo, I took a seat on the hood of the car. At least it was in partial shade though I suspected it would become a thing of the past during late afternoon hours. I hoped I wouldn't be there to find out.

_Answer that question._

It was never about me, not where work was concerned. I had a job to do, an important one in maintaining the peace that continues to be paid for. There was a time I thought Duo felt the same. He'd given the same effort and passion to the job as I did. At least, he had until that one undercover op.

Pushing those memories away was second nature. I would think about that later.

Never what I wanted? What the hell had he meant by that? What I wanted was to complete my assignments and do them well. There was no room for failure. If I had my way, there wouldn't be threats to peace, to those under Preventer's protection. If I had what I wanted, there would be no need for me or my kind.

No need for my kind. Duo was _my kind_. Or had been once. He was needed, just as I was. Did I want him to be needed? Did I want to be needed?

Off to the side of a patch of weeds disguised as a lawn, a naked faucet jutted up out of the ground, its pipe tarnished and patchy with rust. With a glance at the shack's door, I slipped off the car, walked barefoot to the spigot, and turned it on. At least the water was clean and clear. Scooping up a handful, I splashed my face. It was refreshing and cool. So I stuck my head underneath it, wetting hair and shirt, but not caring at that moment. The island was tropical, the sun unmerciful and relentless. Cool on the surface now, I refilled my water bottle and shut off the tap.

My shirt was soaked; my slacks splotched with water. Mentally going over the list of what I'd packed for this trip, I regretted not bringing shorts. Or swim trunks. But, I wore boxers, and Duo's nearest neighbor was miles down the road by car. I laid shirt and pants over the car's roof to dry, and resumed my seat on the hood.

Duo had found one of the remotest islands in the quadrant. I was positive it was deliberate; took nearly three weeks for physical mail to be sent or received. Even priority correspondence. Internet connection was spotty; the phone lines worst and cell reception non-existent. He lived in the ultimate hiding place.

But. It was beautiful in a wild and abandoned sort of way. Three miles from tip to tip, and almost two from side to side, there was no airport, but the ferry was fairly regular. As long as its pilot wasn't hung-over, which was also fairly regular as well.

Twenty-some miles to the north was another island, tropical and touristy, it had amenities I was used to expecting while traveling. Airports, running water, air conditioning, four and five star hotels, restaurants… I think I was getting soft, and that made me smile.

From my perch on the car, I could still see the ocean. It was just as gorgeous a blue from here as it was on the beach. The sun was moving, and I could feel it brushing on my back. Taking a swim was beginning to sound better than sitting and waiting. Another look at the still closed door, and I returned to the beach where Duo's chair had been set up on my arrival.

The sand was hot on my feet, but the tide cooled them down immediately. The water was unexpectedly warm, cooler than the air, enticing me further into its reach. Swimming in rolling water wasn't the same as swimming laps in the gym's pool. A pool didn't have waves that swamped over and around a body, tossing it around like a rag doll in a dog's mouth.

But. There was something exhilarating about the challenge of staying out of its grip. Of fighting its uncaring embrace to surface for air. The pull of muscle to regain footing in the shallows only to turn back and do it all over again. I must have spent nearly two hours diving in and out of the waves before calling it quits.

Duo was waiting on the beach when I finally emerged. He handed me a towel with a too-knowing smile and headed back to the shack.

"You can use the shower if want," he was saying. "No hot water, but you really don't notice out here."

Up around the other side of the shack, Duo waved a hand. Quartered off, paneled in corrugated fiberglass on three sides was a walk-in shower stall. A hook on one post held a ratty, terry-cloth bathrobe, and the hook on the other post, a towel matching the one I held. Inside the stall, a naked pipe came up from the ground, lashed with U clamps and wire to the stall's framework. A showerhead hung from the curve in the water pipe. On one side, a plastic coated metal rack held soap, shampoo, a back scrubber, and a razor. All the amenities of home without the privacy.

I continued to blot at my hair, and shot a look at Duo. He'd taken up a position outside a backdoor to the shack, leaning against the weathered slats making up the outside wall. It was the challenge in his grin that had me setting the towel aside, and shucking out of my boxers. I never could resist one of Duo's challenges, even if it cost me. Besides, it wasn't as though he'd never seen me naked before. Just because it had been years…

The water was warm and more than a trickle, but not the stinging pressure I was used to. Habits die hard, even on tropical isles, especially when one was naked in the presence of a friend. I made quick use of Duo's soap and shampoo, and rinsed the salty residue from hair and skin.

Shutting the water off and stepping free of the stall, I used the discarded towel sparingly, dabbing my face, shoulders and arms. With a quirk of a grin in Duo's direction, I lowered my head and shook dog-like, flinging water from my hair. Duo's startled shout and the genuine laugh that followed made it worth the effort.

I finger combed my hair back, and tied the towel around my hips. "Change of clothes would be in the car," I said, jerking my chin in its direction.

Duo looked at me critically for all of a minute. "Did you bring anything suitable for this place?" He demanded.

Bringing up the mental list of what was packed again, I shook my head. "I wasn't planning to be here long," I said, knowing it wasn't an excuse.

"Come inside then," he told me, already turning away and opening up the back door.

The inside of the shack was unexpected. The lighting dim, mostly coming from the dual windows facing the front and the one smaller window facing the back, the interior was surprisingly cool. A fan twirled lazily overhead, but no other means of air conditioning could be seen. From the backdoor, I had a clear view of the front door, the long room in-between divided into a partial kitchen with the larger portion belonging to lounge space. Beaded curtains hanging from a single door of the interior wall cordoned off another set of rooms.

Just inside the door, I had stopped to look around, but Duo headed straight for the beaded doorway. At a glance, I saw little in the way of furniture. A severely used couch, a battered easy chair, an end table hosting a lamp, and a wall of bookshelves made up the lounge. The kitchen held a simple two-burner stove with a miniscule oven, a refrigerator that was generations old, and a Formica table with a half dozen mix-matched chairs around it.

"I have a pair of shorts and a shirt you can use," Duo was saying from the other room. I cleared the beads, and was surprised yet again.

The 'bedroom' was a long as the shack, a large, unmade bed taking up most of its room. The only other furnishings in the room were a six-drawer dresser, and a makeshift closet built into one corner. My eyes were drawn to the bed, noticing the number of pillows, the way the sheet lay disturbed, the fold of the top sheet and light blanket. I wondered who Duo had been sleeping with.

"Yuy." Duo thrust clothes into my arms. "These should fit."

Taking the pro-offered items, I gave him a short nod. "Thank you." Duo was taller by four or five inches, but appeared much thinner, lankier. With my physical training, and continued routine, my shoulders, chest, arms, and legs were knotted with well-defined muscle.

Seeing no reason not to, I set the clothes on his bed, dropped the towel, and pulled on the set briefs he'd provided. The shorts were a little too long and snug around the waist, but not uncomfortably so. The shirt was a replica of the one he'd worn down by the beach when I'd first arrived, only more sedate in dark blues with a wash of gray flowers.

"I've got chicken and caba salad, if you're hungry," Duo said from behind me. A glance over my shoulder confirmed he'd stood there watching me change. "Was planning to mix up a batch of margaritas, if you want one."

It took me a moment longer than I liked to recall what exactly a margarita was: tequila, lime, triple sec, ice, salt. Giving Duo a nod, I added, "Acceptable."

He only shook his head, and ducked back out the beaded doorway. I followed slowly, picking up my discarded towel, and giving his bed another look. Why it bothered me that there might be someone in his life, I wasn't sure. And at the moment, I filed _those_ thoughts away in the same place I shoved the memories from _that _mission.

Duo was in the kitchen area, bent over inside the fridge. I draped the towel over the back of one chair, and watched. He backed out, holding a rectangle, baking dish in one hand, and a large bowl in the other. I moved forward and took the bowl from him.

"Thanks, man," he grinned, and set the foil covered baking dish on the stove. "The chicken's cooked, and I can reheat it if you want, but…" he gestured toward the living space. "The oven can really heat the place up, so I usually eat it cold."

"Cold is fine," I told him, still holding onto the bowl.

"Great!" He gave me another grin, and bent again, pulling out a blender from a cupboard under the small countertop. "Just set that on the table and have a seat. I'll have these whipped up in no time."

I took a seat, and put the bowl (holding what I suspected was the caba salad, whatever that was), toward the center of the table. Watching Duo move about the kitchen, I could believe drinks would be served in 'no time'; he appeared practiced enough in the art of margarita making. On the heels of that thought, I wondered who else had shared his table, shared his talents at bartending.

In minutes, Duo had two unmatched glasses poured, plates, flatware, napkins, and the chicken set on the table. He pulled up a chair next to mine, removed the foil wrap from the chicken and the lid from the bowl, and immediately began dishing up his plate.

"Eat up," he was saying, before taking a drink from his glass. A large swallow and a lusty smack of his lips, he flashed me a grin. "Nothing like a bit of tequila and lime to rid you of what ails you, eh?"

I lifted my own glass hesitantly, sniffed, and took a sip. It was not distasteful. Sour and salty disguised the kick of the liquor. "You have troubles?" I glanced in his direction, scanned the room, and then out the front windows. "Here?"

"Well now, that all depends." Duo seemed flushed behind his tan, and I wondered. "Sometimes paradise isn't, yanno."

"You are unhappy?" I asked quietly deliberately not looking at him by taking a scoop of the salad and putting it on my plate.

"Eh, it's not so much I'm unhappy," Duo was definitely flushing now, "but more, this wasn't my first choice of locations to live."

Staring at a forkful of 'salad', I could identify a handful of ingredients. It appeared to be made mostly of fruit, some vegetable greens, what looked like a red onion, and some kind of nut. I ate the mouthful before saying anything more. The salad was acceptable.

"What location would be your first choice?" This time, I did look at him.

He tossed the bones of his chicken wing back on his plate, and wiped fingers on his napkin. "Doesn't matter any more," he finally answered. "Ain't going to happen, so no use bringing it up."

I let his answer hang between us, spending the next few minutes in silence, eating. The wings were flavorful, heated in a spicy way with an underlying smoky taste. I hadn't seen a smoker or grill, but I hadn't seen all there was to see about Duo's place. Yet.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Same as today with the added attraction of fishing for dinner," he said, reaching for another wing. "Have more. What's leftover will be tossed to the dogs."

Pausing, I gave him a look. "Dogs?" I hadn't seen any since I'd arrived.

"Palo and Manny's dogs," Duo answered, waving his wing westward. "Two old guys who live on the other side of the trees."

Satisfied, I nodded and helped myself to another wing, and another sip of my drink. I was surprised to find it halfway gone, and would have suspected Duo of nipping from it, but I knew he hadn't.

"So, why'd you ask?" Duo prodded me with an elbow.

I blinked at him, trying to recall why I had asked. What I'd wanted was for him to return with me. To pack his stuff, get in my rental and go back home. With me. Was that what I wanted? The last of my margarita was gone in two long swallows.

"Whoa there, buddy. You packing for a first class trip to margaritaville?"

The alcohol coursed through veins long sober, and the burn ate its way inside and out. I was blinking at Duo again, and shaking my head. "No, just thirsty," I said, knowing it sounded inane.

Duo eyed me unamused. "I do have water."

My eyes dropped to my plate, and I shook my head again. "I'm good."

"Okay," he might have said, but his tone told me he was anything but accepting my answer. "So, tomorrow?" He prompted me again.

Worrying at a fruit cube with my fork, I couldn't look at Duo any more. "I—" I stumbled, caught my breath and started again. "I want to stay with you." And shook my head violently. "No, I mean," I shot him a quick look, and back to my plate. "I would like to spend the day with you."

From the corner of my eye, I could see he was puzzling out what I'd said and what I meant. He was wearing a half-frown, and scratching at the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous or thinking hard. _That_ had me wondering which he was feeling more of; I knew what I was feeling, and it had nothing to do with the brain.

"Uh, sure. If you want. The boat's big enough for six, so there'll be room for the both of us." He fussed with his salad, then set his fork down abruptly and turned to face me. "Why the hell are you here, Heero?"

"You," I told him, and pushed my chair away from the table and stood. "I'm here for you."

In the ten years I'd known him, I'd never seen Duo as surprised as he was then. But, the courage the margarita bought me was fading, and I was the one to turn away first. I grabbed at my dishes, and took them to the sink. Dumped bones and the remains of uneaten salad in the waste can, and the dishes in the sink.

"Do you have the answer to the question, Heero?" Duo asked softly from right behind me.

I shuddered, suddenly feeling him there. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to me physically before. Legs turned to jelly, I leaned heavily on the counter, and closed my eyes. I'd traveled half the world, and more hours than a person should remain awake to be right where I was. There were only inches left in this journey.

"It wasn't supposed to be about me," I told him through lips too numb to feel. "It was supposed to be about fixing what was wrong, about maintaining the peace." Shifting around, I turned to face him, looking at him directly for the first time since my arrival. My hand was shaking as I raised it, touching a fingertip to his face, to the scar that edged his eyebrow to his hairline. "You took what was meant for me, and I left you," I was whispering now, words nearly choking in my throat.

Duo's hand caught mine, and he pressed it flat to his cheek. "I'd do it again—a hundred times if I had to—"

"No!" I cried, moving to embrace his head with my arms. "I couldn't bear it again." His hands were wrapped around my wrists, his eyes watching mine. "Don't you see?" I asked in whisper, leaning my forehead against his. "I thought I'd lost you. That I'd failed you that day."

"You—you didn't fail, Heero. God no." Suddenly, his arms were around me, pulling me close. "You did what you were supposed to do; what I would have done." His lips ghosted over my temple, along my forehead.

"But you doubt me, hate me for not coming to see you," I reminded him in a long shuddering breath.

"No, no, no… never hate. Not you." I was pressed hard with my back to the counter. Duo's arms tightened around my shoulders. He loosened his hold long enough to look at me. "A little disappointed you only managed a note, but I don't hate you. Never did. Never could."

"Then why…" I had to close my eyes, had to shut out what I hoped I was seeing reflected in Duo's eyes. "Why did you leave? Why did you stay way?"

He ran a soothing hand over my hair, pressing my head to his shoulder, and I cling to him as a drowning man. "You didn't need me, not then. Maybe not even now." He brushed a kiss to the side of my face, and I raised my lips to touch his.

"I need you," I told him. "You said it was never about what I wanted, but that was what I had then. You were part of it."

Duo pulled back, turned, and walked half a dozen steps away from me. His hands rose to press thumbs against the ridge of his eyes sockets; he let out an abridge shout full of frustration, anger, fear.

"I can't do it any more, Heero," he said, dropping his hands and turning back to me. "I can't put my life on the line for meaningless reasons." His hand reached for me, held palm up. "For you, a thousand times infinity. But for Preventers? Never again."

I took his hand and pulled him to me. "What do you want, then? What will make you content?"

He chuckled softly, holding me like I held him. "You, me, a good tide and a blender full of margaritas."

"You have that now." I was smiling.

"Then I am content." His hands were exploring places they'd never been, places I'd only dreamed they'd touch before.

"I could be content here," I told him, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. "At least for awhile."

His hands and mouth stilled. His look serious. "And that will be the crux of it."

Running both hands down his chest and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, I nodded and pulled. His body crashed into mine, and I sought his lips for a kiss –hard and demanding. I didn't want to think about tomorrow or next week. I didn't want to think beyond the moment now, and what I would touch or feel or taste next.

It was an enlightening night. I found out personally why Duo's bed was so large, why in its unmade state it appeared as though a troop of acrobats had performed on it. Duo did not sleep in stillness, but used every corner of his bed, and me by de facto.

Sex with Duo surpassed imagination, and when he woke, I planned to show him again that it was all about what I wanted. That it was about me. That it was all about _us_.

And, in the morning, when we went to the dock where his boat anchored, I planned to make a call. I had vacation time coming, plenty of it. I was going use it to make it about me, about us. If at the end of that time a change needed to be made, I thought I was ready to make a change – that I could make a change.

**&**

* * *

Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitudes lyrics

I took off for a weekend last month  
Just to try and recall the whole year.  
All of the faces and all of the places,  
wonderin' where they all disappeared.  
I didn't ponder the question too long;  
I was hungry and went out for a bite.  
Ran into a chum with a bottle of rum,  
and we wound up drinkin' all night.

It's those changes in latitudes,  
changes in attitudes nothing remains quite the same.  
With all of our running and all of our cunning,  
If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane.

Chorus:  
These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes,  
Nothing remains quite the same.  
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands,  
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane

Reading departure signs in some big airport  
Reminds me of the places I've been.  
Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure  
Makes me want to go back again.  
If it suddenly ended tomorrow,  
I could somehow adjust to the fall.  
Good times and riches and son of a bitches,  
I've seen more than I can recall

Chorus

I think about Paris when I'm high on red wine,  
I wish I could jump on a plane.  
And so many nights I just dream of the ocean.  
God, I wish I was sailin' again.  
Oh, yesterdays are over my shoulder,  
So I can't look back for too long.  
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me,  
and I know that I just can't go wrong  
with these...


End file.
